A Noble Indiscretion
by Christine Morgan
Summary: The discovery of Prince Malcolm's diary sheds new light on the Avalon clan. Mature readers only. #18 in an ongoing saga.


A Noble Indiscretion   
by Christine Morgan   
http://www.sabledrake.com   
christine@sabledrake.com 

* * *

  
Author's Note: the characters of Gargoyles are the property of Disney and   
are used here without their creators' knowledge or consent. All others   
property of the author; please don't borrow without permission. Mild   
sexual content.  
  
#18 in an ongoing Gargoyles fanfic saga 

* * *

_Midsummer's Night, in the Year of Our Lord 988._

Folly to record these events, albeit in this secret journal to be   
ever kept from other eyes? Mayhap, folly indeed. Yet, 'tis best to do so   
that I might face the Lord our God with a clear conscience when the   
time comes for He and I to meet.   
And for Katherine, may she if she ever reads of this find some   
measure of understanding in her heart. I would not have this dim her   
memories of me, her father, nor turn her with more unreasoned anger   
against our good vassals the gargoyles.   
I wonder if this is ever to be so. At Katherine's bedside   
yestereve we spoke of that very thing. She fears them greatly, despite   
their many kindnesses and good deeds. Their recent actions are   
confusing to her, for although at eleven she is not far from attaining her   
womanhood, she remains in many ways a child.   
This is mine own doing in part, for I have indulged her whims   
and permitted her to remain carefree of her duties as a princess. By   
rights, she should already be considering suitors, this task of even   
greater import as my years are advancing upon me and the threat of   
violence from the northern lands becomes worse despite our steadfast   
guardians. Illness or violence could at any time carry me swiftly from   
this world, and it is my failing that my daughter is not yet prepared.   
But it is the gargoyles I speak of, and their recent actions   
which have gone on these many weeks and I am told will continue for   
weeks more. Katherine is frightened, believing them to be doing fierce   
battle unto one another, and I could not find the proper words to explain   
to her. Would that her mother lived, for 'tis a matter best left for a   
mother to explain.   
Her nursemaid I confess was of no help at all, the old harridan   
but giving me but scornful looks when I could not restrain mine own   
grinning countenance as I did attempt to reassure Katherine that battle   
was for once far removed from the minds of the gargoyles.   
For, their new young leader Goliath informs me (young   
indeed, he is near twice mine own age but in truth seems some youthful   
as they have a span of life half untouched by time, ageless as they are in   
stone by daylight hours) that the gargoyles elect to breed. 'Tis a matter   
of their own choosing, that all of their young might be born apace.   
The last such birthing, or hatching as it may be, did take place   
when I myself was but a youth. And although I have been many years a   
man, those youngsters are but only now nearing readiness to take their   
places as warriors among the clan.   
So it is that, for some time now the skies have been graced by   
sights doubtless perplexing to the young and innocent mind of my   
precious Katherine. Not so for the others of the castle! I foresee that   
next year will bring a goodly crop of infants to the women of this castle   
and its environs!   
Inspiring indeed it is to observe the majestic passions of these   
magnificent creatures! I daresay many assignations, trysts, and other   
diversions have occurred betwixt the men and women hereabouts,   
caught up in the general excitement.   
The castle guards are hard pressed to keep their minds on their   
duty, distracted as they are by sights such as we beheld yestereve,   
Goliath and his red-tressed mate locked in fierce embrace! But I am   
some comforted by the knowing that, should any dare attack the castle,   
such intrusion will but bring about even more bloody recompense for   
the interruption!   
Katherine, however, doth be too girlish yet to understand and   
mistakes their actions for harmful. Already she sees them as naught but   
monsters, and hath ever blamed them for our misfortunes. When some   
four years ago I was struck down by the Archmage's poisoning, in his   
bitter revenge for exile, my daughter did turn a blind eye to the brave   
gargoyles that risked all to bring me the antidote and saw only their   
failure to prevent the initial attack. Ah, but she is stubborn in her way.   
Much like her mother.   
If even my assurances that the gargoyles do but endeavor to   
provide for the continuing defense of the castle unto the next generation   
fell on the deaf ears of mine daughter, I can but imagine her horror   
should ever she learn of my own indiscretion. As of yestereve, such   
thoughts were utterly unknown to my mind. But oh! this night has ever   
changed my life!   
My wife is lost to me, along with a son who lived scarce long   
enough to be christened that his soul might be welcomed into Heaven. I   
had not, these years past, made any effort to seek another wife and sire   
sons, despite the oft ungentle urgings of my liege and kinsman the king.   
I was blessed fortunate for a marriage which, made for alliance's sake,   
turned swift to love. I would not dim that memory. Indeed, I have lived   
a monk's life since my wife's death.   
Katherine is mine sole heir. Someday she must marry, and I   
have mayhap been lax in mine duties as a father for not making her a   
proper match as of yet. For I look upon her and see but a child, not a   
girl fast approaching womanly years. I must address this. I am to visit   
the king's court this autumn, I shall take her with me and let it be known   
to the king's loyals that she will soon be in need of a husband.   
This I know will bring some grief to the young Magus, who   
has ever been most fond of her. But surely, wise as he is for his tender   
years, he must see that there shall be no marriage with Katherine for   
him. We of Wyvern are held suspect enough in the eyes of the people   
for taking such constant advice of the mages, first the Archmage and   
now his former apprentice. The Archmage proved a betrayer, and while   
I do not doubt the Magus' loyalty, I know that none would accept him   
as their rightful lord were he to wed a princess. Further, since his   
service is already lifelong sworn to us, it is not politically expedient.   
If there are any that I could trust with the matter to be revealed   
herein, it would be the Magus. He lives with one foot in a different   
world, more accustomed to the strange and mysterious. But he is even   
at fifteen more boy than man in some matters, while in others seems   
many times my elder. Further, I recall once the Archmage saying unto   
me that the magic consumes them with such a fire that mere yearnings   
of the flesh are pale and weak in comparison. Thus, his is not for these   
many reasons a counsel I could seek.   
I did give some thought to confessing this business to the   
gargoyles themselves. Not Goliath, certainly, for although he is the   
leader, he is young and may be given to overly strenuous expressions of   
his opinions. And his scarlet-haired mate, his second-in-command,   
would also be a poor choice as she has made no secret of her temper.   
Nay, if I sought the counsel of any gargoyle, it would be wisdom of the   
prior leader.   
But he and some of the others of his generation, along with   
many of the younger ones, have taken brief leave of the castle.   
Nominally to help the younger ones learn more of the land hereabouts   
in preparing to be warriors, but also to give the breeding pairs some   
privacy. Not that they are prudish with their matings! Nay, we have   
seen that well and often!   
And so it is that I am left only with this parchment to record   
that which plagues me. And which, although I see in reading over what   
I have written, I have shied from for many pages now.   
So let it be said! I have, this very night, lain with a gargoyle!   
There. The words, committed to ink, now seem even more   
truthful, and a burden lifted from my mind.   
Am I shamed by this? She is not human, yet she is a good and   
lovely creature of a noble, thinking race. They are not beasts, although   
this is the claim of many who are ignorant or foolish. This was no   
loutish barnyard dalliance.   
I am troubled more by my failure to remain faithful to the   
memory of my wife. In truth, it may be verily because of her race that I   
yeilded to temptation. No woman save mine own wife had appealed to   
me. But this lass is no woman, for all that she is undeniably female!   
Surely, this cannot be the first time that human and gargoyle   
have joined. We are not blind to their beauty, inhuman though it may   
be. In my youth, my friends and I would often gaze admiringly upon the   
she-gargoyles in their unconcealing attire. I cannot believe that, in all   
the years our two races have shared this land, no others have had similar   
thoughts or taken similar actions.   
Even so, it remains a matter I can hardly discuss. To my   
soldiers and servants I must remain somewhat distant. To the king and   
other nobles-born, I dare not reveal this for fear that their reactions   
would be horror and loathing, for they know little of gargoyles. And   
Katherine! My very soul shies at the thought of her knowing!   
It is perhaps best forgotten, but I cannot will it from my   
memory even if I did so desire. I would want to remember this night   
always, to remember her!   
Warm, it was, even for Midsummer. The languid heat seemed   
to make even stronger the headiness of the frequent mating flights. This   
night, I fear, made my assurances to Katherine a lie, for there was a   
battle, brief but bloody, as one male tried to challenge another for a   
comely golden-hued female. Not even Goliath's order could stay their   
hands, and it was only by force he could seperate the combatants.   
It seemed this night impossible to take a step without being   
confronted by impassioned sights or sounds, both in the skies above and   
in the very castle hallways. Guardsmen, chambermaids, lords and   
ladies, all seemed to be indulging their desires. I recall being thankful   
that the gargoyles had chosen this year and not some five years later,   
when Katherine would no longer be a child.   
Goliath himself assured me that their breeding season would   
reach its height tonight, and then taper as autumn drew nigh. Soon, he   
said, 'twould be time to prepare the rookery and the clan's thoughts   
would turn more toward egg-tending than egg-making.   
In the meantime, of course, he politely gave apology for the   
state of affairs their affairs did cause. Our discussion was cut short by   
the arrival of his mate, who with one artful turn of a well-formed leg not   
only rendered Goliath unfit to speak further but entranced several of my   
guardsmen as well.   
I myself was not immune from thoughts I had believed long   
dormant, but knew that I could afford no trysts with castle women, lest I   
find myself obliged to wed. I envied some of my cousins, whose   
conquests were legendary and who saw no wrong in spreading their   
seed liberally throughout their villages, but I had never been of such   
mind and was unlikely to change now. Unseemly indeed, for Malcolm   
after his long fidelity and celibacy to of a sudden seize a serving wench   
or seek a peasant girl in the fields!   
To better remove myself from these distractions, I saddled my   
mount and rode along the bluff. There among the rocks and sea-mist, I   
was well aware of gargoyle pairs diving and embracing, but their wild   
cries did not seem so overpowering when not redoubled and echoed by   
the walls of the castle. Still, it did little for my peace of mind. I turned   
my steed instead inland and came in time to a ring of standing stones.   
Great monoliths and slabs they were, placed by some ancient   
hand and their meaning lost to all. In the time of mine grandfather,   
Druids yet made use of those stones and believed them to be places of   
great power. But those odd folk had been hunted and feared even more   
so than gargoyles, and it had been long years since their kind had been   
seen. Elsewise, surely they would have had some use for this place on   
Midsummer's Night.   
My steed, I tethered some ways distant, for when I tried to lead   
it within the ring it became ill with unease. True, there did seem to be   
raw energies in the very air, but I found it to be more stirring than   
affrightening. I dare say, I did even glimpse for a time what it must be   
have the powers of a mage.   
Some entranced by this, I explored amidst the stones, until   
mine ears were caught by the oft-heard familiar sweep of wings.   
Quickly, I hid myself with the intent of making my departure, assuming   
it to be a pair of mates and not wishing to intrude upon their joining.   
Lo, 'twas instead a single gargoyle, one which I knew by sight   
but not by name. For, excepting Goliath, whose name was given almost   
in passing as a jest by mine father upon remarking that he was in truth a   
giant among his kind, the gargoyles saw naught of import in the naming   
of things.   
Verily by sight I did know her, for she was remarkable among   
her clan for her skin of such ivory-white as to seem made of the very   
substance of the moon. And further celestial could she be described,   
with hair bright as a morning sun and eyes akin to stars.   
I wondered at her presence alone, for to mine eyes she was a   
goodly fair female, lithe of limb and of such gentle roundness of form   
that a human woman might have envied her. I knew not what the males   
of her kind found most appealing, but her wings seemed finely shaped   
and the small blunted horns which lined her brow did also descend   
along the sides of her throat and along her shoulders, and in a row   
running the graceful length of her back and tail, which itself ended in a   
spiked ball not unlike a mace.   
So it was that she seemed to me the manner of creature that   
would not be lacking companionship, and as such all the more   
surprising it was to me when she, upon folding her wings, did sink to   
her knees amid the silent stones and commence weeping as if her heart   
would break.   
These tears alarmed me, for I had in my time seen many   
moods of the gargoyles but never such a spate of sobbing. And ere I   
knew my own mind, I had approached this distressed damosel, for no   
gentleman born could do otherwise.   
It did come to my mind to fear for my safety if she took   
offense at my intrusion or witnessing of her anguish, but how could I   
leave her to her misery? And so I knelt myself beside her and offered a   
cloth to dry her tears, and inquired to the cause of her grief.   
Suffice to say, as I did survive to write this, she did not in   
sudden fury rend my flesh from my bones. Rather, after some alarm on   
her part and reassurances on mine, she revealed to me the reason for her   
presence here.   
It seems she had for many years been muchly desirous of a   
male of her clan, who, unknowing of this, had taken another as a mate.   
While most times she was able to live peaceably with his decision, she   
found this chosen season too painful in her unrequited love.   
Nature bid her breed, all about her were others engaging in just   
that, her very clan's survival depended upon a new generation of eggs.   
Further, there were and have often been an abundance of males and   
scant females. She would have had a dozen or more suitors eager to   
attend her, but she was as I have said, no unthinking beast to be won   
only by the most worthy. Her heart was, for all it beat with a different   
rhythm, not so dissimilar to that of a human.   
She said not which male was the object of her love, but I came   
to guess that it was none other than Goliath himself. Which worsened   
her plight, for he was pledged to a mate who would brook no straying,   
even were it in his noble character to do so.   
I have ever been made weak by a lady's tears. What man has   
not? Eve herself in the Garden of Eden may have fared better to give   
way to weeping rather than lay blame at the serpent, for surely even the   
wrath of God Almighty might have eased in the face of it.   
So it was, seeking to comfort, I settled my arm about her   
shoulders in the manner of my kind, but also brushed my knuckles   
against the small horns of her brow, as I had seen her kind do in   
wordless affection.   
Too closely, our situations aligned. Here was she, unable to   
bear the attentions of another gargoyle in having lost the one she loved.   
And I, likewise, unable to cleave unto another woman in memory of my   
dear wife.   
Ah, but such was our undoing! For I was no gargoyle, and she   
no woman! As the realization of this slowly dawned upon us both, we   
found the quality of our consoling embrace had changed.   
Not since my wedding night had I beheld such a glorious   
creature! The feel of her skin, the firmness of her flesh, the different yet   
not unwelcome configuration of her form, all of these things were as   
sweetest honeyed mead to me.   
She was the wild wind made solid, the sea before a storm.   
Within the circle of mine arms she moved in such ways I had never   
imagined. It was neither a fevered rutting nor tender lovemaking, but   
something between which yet held pieces of both.   
I feared I might prove inadequate for her tastes, having had   
occasion to observe that males of her kind were often grandly   
structured, yet I believe that I gave her as much delight as I myself   
found. She uttered no words to the contrary, at least, and is not of such   
artifice as a woman might be as would seek to placate a man with false   
assurances.   
So great her effect upon me that even now as I write this I feel   
a stirring in my loins, although earlier in my exhaustion I would have   
sworn 'twould be Michalmas ere I regained mine strength.   
Alas! the night waned too soon, for gladly would I have tarried   
more hours there with her. But encroaching day urged our return to the   
castle, that we both might rest from our wearisome yet delightful night's   
labors.   
Seperate we returned, the both of us unknowing what reception   
we might find if the truth became known. For, she confessed to me, not   
in her knowing have gargoyle and human joined as we did, and she is   
rightfully afeared of her clan's disapproval. And I much the same, with   
the added surety that mine own kind would fail to understand, and my   
dear Katherine would be stricken with horror.   
And so it is that we must bide this secret well. Tempting   
though it be, there must be no repeat of this night past. I dare not risk   
the alliance between the gargoyles and my people. There have been   
troublesome rumors of fierce-bearded raiders from the north, and so I   
must keep the safety of this castle as my first concern.   
Lo! the sun has long since risen, and I am yet awake. But ere I   
retire to mine bed, I shall spare one last look upon the battlements,   
toward my ivory angel in her timeless sleep. I pray that she takes solace   
and finds renewed hope in our brief love, just as I have done.   
** 

_The Eighth Day of January, in the Year of Our Lord 989._

I am, after lengthy absence, returned to this mine castle and   
home. I had not intended such a prolonged visit to my kinsman the king,   
but an unseasonable illness coupled with alarming tales of war from the   
north did keep me some weeks longer than I had meant.   
The illness yet lingers, but I was compelled to make the   
journey home despite Katherine's concerns. She fears for my health,   
dear child. Ah, but this is a mere passing infirmity. By spring, I warrant,   
I shall be in the fit again.   
To this journal, though, I have not come to record my   
conversations with the king and our fears regarding these northern   
warriors. That I will make note of elsewhere. There is another matter,   
strange and troubling, that I must needs mention here.   
It has been several months since I took my leave of Castle   
Wyvern. The breeding season of the gargoyles had passed, to the relief   
of many. As I had predicted, their example did inspire much imitation   
among mine people, and this spring will see a bountiful crop of bairns.   
The gargoyles, too, seem to have bred well. Their females,   
typically so lean and warlike, have grown great and gravid with eggs.   
'Tis a fair comical sight to witness their efforts at gliding and landing,   
although it has been learned well that to laugh is inviting certain danger.   
In fact, one squire was so unfortunate as to express mirth   
untimely, and earned such a look from Goliath's mate that it struck him   
as a nearly physical blow. It sufficed to topple him from the battlements   
into a manure pile, much to the jolliment of three juvenile gargoyles   
that happened to be nearby.   
But of more concern to me is that, unthinkable as it may seem,   
she of whom I have previously written is among her sisters in being   
heavy with egg. Yet she remains mateless.   
I am forced to consider the most obvious conclusion, although   
it doth seem naught but sheer madness. Can it be that she carries the   
result of our night's passion?   
My mind turns to the old tales. A place of power, on a night   
believed by most to be ripe for magic, at the height of their season.   
Might it not be possible? And if so, what consequence awaits?   
If she were human, honor would demand that I wed with her.   
But she is not, and I pale to think what would happen if I announced my   
intent to take a gargoyle bride.   
And what form might such offspring take? Would it even   
survive? Would it be noticeably manlike and thus give the secret?   
If 'tis mine, then 'twould be of the royal blood. But outrageous   
to name as an heir, for would human or gargoyle heed the word of one   
which was not one nor the other? And unimaginable to be in line for the   
throne!   
If 'tis mine, then 'tis my child! Brother or sister to Katherine!   
Which would either finally win her heart to the gargoyles, else inspire   
her hatred even more.   
The deed is done, and we shall but have to wait until the egg is   
laid and hatched to see if any of this is aught but conjecture.   
** 

_The Eleventh Day of March, in the Year of Our Lord 989.___

My illness, which I thought but a passing thing, is worsening   
beyond hope of even the young Magus' wisdom. He fears, though will   
not voice it to Katherine, that I will not see year's end. She must know,   
for she must be prepared to rule. A terrible burden to place on a girl not   
even thirteen. Would that I had found her a suitable husband!   
The eggs are laid, now two weeks agone. Well and close have   
I attended the progress of the mothers, who have weathered the winter   
and heavy rains of the spring far better than I myself.   
The rookery, a deep cellar vault, is no longer so empty. Some   
near twoscore of eggs, soft-shelled and mottled violet, rest in beds of   
hay as humble as that which did cradle the son of God. Among those   
eggs are two which are unusual.   
One is of a duller hue and thicker shell, which Goliath tells me   
is the mark of a watchdog. There is one of that kind already, a hulking   
blue beast, goodhearted despite his ferocious aspect. He is the only one,   
with no female of his kind, so it is unknown to me how this watchdog   
egg has come to pass. But it is the other that concerns me more.   
Her egg. For so it must be. It is unlike its fellows, being   
smaller and pale, with mottling pink as a newborn infant's skin.   
The gargoyles are puzzled by this.   
They pay no mind to which female births which egg, for all are   
treated with equal affection by the adults and considered the children of   
the entire clan. None know their parents, all born in the same generation   
are considered brothers and sisters yet also ultimately mates. Because of   
this, they would not think to question the mother, and learn the truth.   
Even she does not mark the egg as her own. In fact, the small   
egg is largely ignored. As if they fear it to be damaged, malformed.   
They do not mistreat it, but nor do they lavish it with care as the others   
receive.   
I myself dare not express unseemly interest in the egg. Yet, in   
my heart I know, I doubt no longer.   
It is mine. My child.   
Folly to write this, I wondered when first I set to do so. Or is it   
best to make matters clear, should there ever come a time when the   
succession of Wyvern is in doubt? I pray that it shall never be so, that   
my dear daughter Katherine shall rule long and wisely and pass on the   
title to her own children.   
Yet it is possible that she should die without issue. And if that   
be the case, may my leige and kinsman the rightful king take into   
account the matter I herein didst relate, unusual though it was.   
* * 

_EPILOGUE: AVALON_

"By the powers!" the Magus said softly.   
The chest had been a wedding gift from Katherine's mother to   
her father, brought all the way from Normandy. Katherine had been   
loathe to leave it behind, using it to pack her belongings when they left   
Castle Wyvern in the wake of the Viking attack. Even when fleeing the   
usurper king, Constantine, she had insisted on bringing it along. To very   
Avalon itself.   
In all of that time, in all of those travels, she had never noticed   
the old and folded papers tucked deep in the corner. The Magus was   
certain of that. If Katherine had found those papers, she would have   
bespoken him.   
He smoothed the pages absently. The ink of Malcolm's   
confession had not faded much over the years, and in his strong script   
the Magus was greatly reminded of the man himself. Even the final   
entry, scant months before the prince succumbed to his illness, was only   
marginally faltering.   
Across the room, bent to her studies, was Elektra.   
"I am blind, else a fool! Why did I not see it before?" the   
Magus murmured to himself.   
There had always been something different about her, setting   
her apart from her rookery brothers and sisters. Hatched last, from the   
smallest egg, Tom had opined her to be the runt of the litter. But she   
had grown fastest, attaining physical maturity well before the others.   
Less formidable, she was, and of more slender build. Her skin   
was creamy-fair, the bony spurs along her brow and elbows no more   
than token nubs. With her wings draped over her shoulders and her thin   
tail hidden, she almost seemed not a gargoyle at all.   
And -- this he must have known on some level but never   
consciously until now -- she resembled Katherine. It was there in the   
straight and smooth brown hair, in the shape of her eyes, her pensive   
mouth, her graceful wrists and throat.   
Yes, there they were, the clues and signs that he should have   
seen. He was torn between shame and relief. Relief because Prince   
Malcolm, a man he had always admired and respected, Prince Malcolm   
himself had been lovers with a gargoyle. If one such as he, a man so   
fine and noble, could do so, then there could be no wrong in it.   
Elektra glanced at him curiously, sensing his stare.   
How like Katherine she was! In candlelight, she could almost   
be mistaken for the Katherine of his memory, the Katherine that he had   
loved and lost through his own inaction.   
He'd deemed himself unworthy of the princess when he could   
no longer offer her his magic. In time, she, needing the attention he   
could not bring himself to provide, had turned to Tom although he was   
seven years her junior.   
"Magus?" Elektra asked, sweeping back her fall of hair.   
He was unable to answer, and her curiosity changed to   
concern. She rose and came to him, reaching to touch his face in a   
manner she knew he liked. He flinched away from her, troubled beyond   
his ability to express.   
His heart must have known this while his mind remained   
ignorant. Why else would he have come to care for Elektra so? She had   
ever been his favorite, of all of the hatchlings the quickest to learn, the   
most attentive student. In time, the fondness of a teacher had become   
something more.   
Now, though, it was plain! He had seen in her a reflection of   
Katherine, and most shamefully misused her honest affections to ease   
his decades-old longing.   
"Magus, what is it?" She was hurt now as well as concerned.   
Both of her hands -- human hands with their full complement of fingers,   
why had he not noticed that clear sign? -- settled along the sides of his   
jaw, turning him to meet her gaze.   
She seemed so young and innocent. Speaking now of his   
thoughts would only cause her pain.   
"Nothing," he said, and enfolded her in his arms. "Nothing at   
all."   
* *   
The End 


End file.
